Wounds
by Emcnary
Summary: Some wounds are hard to heal. Some scars run too deep. A story about loss, grief, and a sibling's love. Round 4 of the Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition.


Parvati took a deep breath and sat back on her heels, pushing herself away from the toilet now that she'd stopped retching. With a slow exhale, she realized she'd need to clean herself up before her sister Padma returned to their shared flat. Although, since she had no idea what time it was—Parvati often had little sense of time—there was no way to know how long she had until her sister would arrive. With no energy to do anything more, she simply wiped her mouth with a tissue and flushed her sick. With a groan, she succumbed to the urge to lie down and lowered herself to the floor, resting her cheek on the cool tiles. Why should she move? It wasn't as if Padma hadn't seen her in this state before. Parvati closed her eyes, hoping the worst was over.

 _Over._

So many things were over. The War. Her youth. Her innocence. Although Parvati's innocence had been lost ages ago. At the beginning of their sixth year when their mother had tried to keep her and her brilliant sister from returning to Hogwarts on account of You-Know-Who's return was probably when her innocence had been lost. With the darkest wizard known to modern times out in the open, their parents had been loathe to allow the twins to return to school.

But they'd returned. Returned to finish what was supposed to be the most important two years of their magical education. In reality, it had been one year of education, followed by the most horrifying year of all of the students' lives. Terror had reigned at Hogwarts.

Through it all had been one shining beacon for Parvati. _Lavender_. Her best friend had helped her survive the terrifying seventh year when the older students had spent much of their time seeking sanctuary in the Room of Requirement. During that time, their close friendship had become even more important as they relied on each other for comfort. Everyone thought Lavender was about as complex as an _Auguamenti_ Spell, but what they didn't know was that behind that exterior—the one that worried excessively over her appearance and acted completely boy-crazy from the time they were old enough to notice boys—was so much more. They'd commiserated over missing their family, over their fear of the Carrows, over the terrifying thought that the War would never end. Having such a friendship during those dark times had been more than Parvati could have hoped for. Now it was over.

The shock of losing Lavender at the hands of Fenrir Greyback was numbed at first by the sheer amount of loss that surrounded the end of the War. The list of the dead had been hard to reconcile, even with the knowledge that, in the end, they had won. Lavender's funeral was the first time Parvati had actually felt the grief that was hanging over everyone like a cloud. She'd sat stone still next to Padma and their parents during the service, unable to break her gaze from the coffin that held the young woman Parvati couldn't believe people dubbed as vacuous and dim-witted. Lavender may have kissed most of the boys in Gryffindor House above fifth year, enjoyed the ramblings of Professor Trelawney more than was strictly necessary, and liked to look pretty, but she was also loyal, brave, and more skilled as a witch than most gave her credit for.

Once the hubbub had died down—no more funerals to attend, no more recounting the Final Battle, no more victory speeches—Parvati had been left with nothing but her thoughts and her grief. That was when she'd turned to Firewhisky.

It had started with nicking a bottle from her parents' drinks cabinet to temper her anxiety. A way to take the edge off when attempts at sleep yielded nothing more than horrific images of the Final Battle flashing through her mind. Then the loneliness had crept in. Without Lavender there to comfort her, hold her hand, tell her it would be all right in the end, she felt utterly alone. The anxiety and loneliness bred an unbearable environment for Parvati. Soon she was drinking at all hours of the day to combat the pain.

Her family tried to help, of course. Parvati's parents spoke longingly of going back to change history. Make the two final years of school disappear like they'd never existed. An impossible task. Oh, they said they were there for Parvati, but they couldn't truly understand the depth of her grief. Her parents' purpose was following behind Parvati and fixing whatever she left in her drunken wake. Her twin sister was the only one she could actually talk to about the events that plagued her mind. But, again, it wasn't the same. Nobody could help her. Parvati needed her friend, her companion, the one she would never see again.

The sound of the front door closing alerted Parvati that Padma was home. Their shared flat was above the restaurant they co-owned and operated. After the Death Eaters had taken over Diagon Alley and subsequently turned it into a shell of its former glory, efforts were taken after the War to revitalize and return it to the wonderful shopping area it had once been. Their restaurant had been part of this revitalization. With a rich heritage of Indian food and culture behind them, Parvati and Padma—mostly Padma—had set out to bring something new and uplifting to the Wizarding World.

The distinction of co-owned was a stretch of the truth. A ruse, really. They may have set out as equal partners with the financial backing graciously given to them by their parents, but Parvati's role diminished as her drinking increased.

The ruse was wearing off. Parvati could tell. She could see it in the way people looked at her and watched her every move. Like they were afraid she was going to combust before their eyes. Her parents watched her with ill-disguised pity, and her sister had recently stopped bringing her news of their so-called joint business venture. Parvati had long-since stopped setting foot in their restaurant. Any errands she needed to complete were done under the cloak of night; the bright sunlight of day was far too transparent. If people saw her during the day, she was terrified the gig would be up. She would cease to be the girl who was still troubled by the War and would become the girl who was a drunk. It was better to fear the sunlight lest the world beyond her family find out her secret.

The coolness of a damp flannel forced Parvati to open her eyes. Kneeling next to her was Padma. Her dark eyes never showed judgement when she found Parvati in a state of post-drinking discomposure. It wasn't always this bad. Usually she would venture out in the early evening to procure whatever she needed to consume for the night—her purchases becoming more frequently Muggle alcohol so she didn't fuel the gossip with how much Firewhisky she purchased. Upon returning home, she would drink until sleep took her. On occasion, like that night, her need to dull the pain would be overindulged.

Parvati watched as Padma stood and rested the flannel on the edge of the sink. "I'm going to move you, _akka_ ," she said as she drew her wand.

With a spell murmured under her breath, Padma lifted Parvati and levitated her from the bathroom. Parvati closed her eyes as the disorienting feeling of floating through the air caused her head to swim. Once she was settled in her bed, Padma Summoned a glass from the kitchen and filled it with water from her wand before setting it on the bedside table.

"Does it help?" Padma asked as she smoothed the hair back from Parvati's face.

Parvati nearly cried at the lack of accusation in her sister's voice. Like if she told Padma that yes, it did help to drink herself into oblivion, she would understand.

"No," Parvati answered thickly.

"Then _why_?"

Parvati took a deep breath, her insides roiling at the pressure of her diaphragm pressing against her stomach with the deep inhale. "Because for a little while, I don't have to feel it all so much."

A deep sigh from Padma told Parvati that her twin had something more to say.

"We were all there, Vati," Padma said as she drew the covers over Parvati's shoulders. "We all lost something."

Parvati closed her eyes against the tears that threatened as her sister left. She knew Padma was right. Of course everyone felt loss from the war. Wizards and witches throughout Britain—throughout the world—had lost someone due to the terrible reign of You-Know-Who. Parvati wasn't so daft to think she was the only one who felt pain. It was the unjustness of it all that truly affected her. Many of the fallen who had been laid out in death during and after the battle had looked almost peaceful. But not her friend. Lavender hadn't died from a spell emitted from a wand; she'd been savaged by a monster. Rather than looking peaceful, she'd been barely recognizable in death. Even You-Know-Who had been granted a clean death. A rebounded spell fired from his own wand was a far kinder end than he deserved.

Yes, there had been tragedies. There had been death. It had been brutal. But, what had Lavender's last moments been like? These were the thoughts that Parvati needed numbing from. Speculation as to what her friend had endured was what drove Parvati to seek solace in intoxication. Were it not for the drink, the pain would have surely consumed her by now.

The next day, Parvati woke to find a note propped against the water glass Padma had left. There were also the usual potion vials sitting on her table her sister left for her after nights such as the previous one. Parvati dutifully drank the potions and downed the water before opening the note. Eyeing the familiar neat print, Parvati recognized Padma's handwriting.

 _Vati,_

 _I'm coming home after the lunch rush and we are going to talk._

Parvati lowered herself gently back on her pillow and covered her eyes with her hands. They'd had this sort of discussion before. The first time, Padma had come to her with her concerns and the concerns of their parents. That conversation hadn't gone well. There'd been yelling. There'd been tears. Parvati had stormed out. The second time Padma had brought up the topic of her drinking, Parvati had at least been able to listen enough to know she couldn't deny her problem to her sister any longer. Regardless of not being able to deny her problem, Parvati had still insisted that she could stop whenever she liked. That had been the first time she'd ever lied to her twin. What could she say? The truth? The truth was that she hated herself for the state she was in, but couldn't stop it.

A glance at the clock told her that, like most days, she had slept well into the afternoon and Padma would be home any minute. With the potions kicking in, Parvati rolled herself out of bed, hoping for a quick drink before facing her sister.

The whisky had scarcely touched the glass before Parvati heard the front door. She hastily threw back the drink, hesitating as she contemplated another as Padma rounded the corner into the kitchen. Parvati averted her eyes from Padma's stare, focusing instead on the bottle on the counter in front of her. The bottle suddenly disappeared, telling Parvati that her sister must have Vanished it.

"Come sit with me, _akka_ ," Padma said before she turned and left the room.

Parvati stood for a moment, fervently wishing for another drink to fortify her for the argument that was coming. Knowing she had no choice, she left the kitchen and found her sister waiting on the couch. Parvati crinkled her brow in confusion as she saw a number of documents spread across the coffee table.

"What's this?" Parvati asked cautiously, waving her hand at the papers.

Padma took a deep breath before she said, "I've found someone who is interested in buying you out of your share of the restaurant."

Parvati gaped at her sister. Padma wanted to sell her portion of their _shared_ venture? She knew she'd become more of a silent partner, but she couldn't believe it had come to this. Worse, Padma seemed so calm about the whole thing. As if it were the most logical next step.

"Sorry?" Parvati asked with a slight shake of her head.

"I've found a buyer for your share of the restaurant," her sister repeated.

"But—"

"Don't tell me you're shattered over the thought of giving up the burden of running a business. I mean, when was the last time you stepped foot in the restaurant?"

Parvati averted her gaze once more, not wanting to acknowledge the last time she had attempted to be part of their business.

"If you don't recall, I can—"

"I don't need you to repeat it," Parvati said bitingly as she flopped in one of the arm chairs across from the couch.

Unfortunately, Parvati remembered perfectly well what had happened the last time Padma had asked her to be present for something involving the restaurant. There was an inspection needed since their restaurant had been in operation for six months. Parvati had attended, attempting to do something right. By the end of the night, she'd ended up earning them a citation for public intoxication in the workplace. Their parents had needed to smooth it over with the business registrar's office. After that night, Parvati worked behind the scenes exclusively. Revamping menu items, searching family recipes, anything she could do from their flat.

"The restaurant is doing quite well. Brilliantly, really," Padma said.

Knowing it wasn't fair, but not caring enough to stop herself, Parvati said, "A bit conceited, aren't we? A few good months of business and it's suddenly brilliant?"

"People can deal with me being conceited because my business is successful. Thriving, really."

" _Your_ business?" Parvati shrieked. Even with the potions her sister had left on her table, her head throbbed slightly at her raised voice.

"Could you be conceited right now? Call the business your success?"

Parvati closed her eyes and fought against her emotions. The truth stung. Of course nobody would tolerate her conceit right now because she'd done nothing toward success. And Padma, of all people, knew that truth.

"Who's the buyer?" Parvati asked, keeping her eyes closed against her sister's steadfast gaze.

"It's interesting, really," Padma said. "You know her. She's actually quite aware of your problem and has been helping me. You see, this is what the Muggles call an intervention. I've been reading up on the subject."

 _Muggles? Intervention?_

Parvati's head swam at her sister's words. Of course Padma would read a book to help solve a problem. She was a Ravenclaw through and through. Parvati opened her eyes to see a book in Padma's hands.

"Hermione Granger," Padma said.

"Hermione?" Parvati asked incredulously. She wondered how the Gryffindor bookworm could possibly know about her drinking. "Didn't the _Prophet_ say she was marrying Ron Weasley? Like they have the money to buy me out," she spit out nastily.

"Ah," Padma said, flipping open her book and scanning a page at the beginning Parvati could only assume was a table of contents. "Lashing out. There's a whole chapter about lashing out. He's come a long way since being my knob-headed date at the Yule Ball, you know," Padma said as she flipped the pages. "Here we are. The checklist."

The last thing Parvati wanted was to hear something read from a book that cited the evidence of her problem. The thought alone was enough to make her want a drink. To Parvati's dismay, Padma began to read aloud.

"Does your loved one lie or hide their drinking? Does your loved one blackout after drinking? Do they drink to improve their mood? Do their hands tremble? Do they have problems with family members as a result of drinking? Do they drink in the morning?"

"All right!" Parvati said, her voice shaking with the many emotions she tried so hard to suppress: grief, guilt, shame, anger. "What do you want from me?" Parvati asked. "To tell you how much I hate myself? That I can't stand the pain so much I think about ending it?"

Padma's tone was much softer than the business-like one she'd assumed so far. "That," she said, tears filling her eyes. "I want your honesty. I want you to seek help. I don't want to fix your problems or pretend like they don't exist like Mum and Dad. I want to _help_ you seek help."

 _Help_. Was that what Parvati needed? Help? Help from whom? Parvati stared at her sister. There was no denying her problem now. Not to the identical face staring hopefully at her.

"It still hurts so much," Parvati said, ignoring the tears that began flowing down her cheeks.

"It's going to hurt, _akka_ ," Padma said, her voice thick with emotion. "But, we won. If you keep doing this, it's like he won. It's like...like she died for nothing. Don't make it so she died for nothing."

Parvati looked up sharply at her sister's words, the tears she was trying in vain to hold back still wetting her cheeks. She stared at Padma for a long moment before the tears fell in earnest. It was as if two years of unacknowledged grief came crashing down all at once. Parvati cried. She cried until her voice was raw from the sobs and her eyes were practically swollen shut. She cried for Lavender as well as herself. She cried for her sister and the love and devotion she was showing. Parvati had no idea how long she sat with her grief. When she finally opened her eyes, she saw that Padma had moved her from the chair to the couch and had wrapped her arms protectively around her. For the first time in a long time, Parvati felt hope.

* * *

A/N: This is for round 4 of the Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition

Challenge: For this round, you will be writing about those forgotten families. Chaser 3: The Patils

Prompts: 5. (Word) print, 7. (Quote) The world tolerates conceit from those who are successful, but not from anybody else, 15. (Phobia) heliophobia

Word count: 3028

 _Akka_ is the Indian term for sister according to a friend of mine. I'm not sure about the subtleties between languages and cultures, so I apologize if it's not correct:)


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